


sharpening knives and loading guns

by thesaddestboner



Series: The Longest Winter [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, Pittsburgh Penguins, Russians, War, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They marched for Warsaw.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	sharpening knives and loading guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fedzgurl91](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fedzgurl91).



> _Italics_ means Russian is being spoken.
> 
> Title from “Occult Enemies,” by Against Me!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

They marched for Warsaw.

The city had been abandoned by the fleeing Germans, left in crumbling ruins. Evgeni dreaded what they’d find there. The others talked of all the looting they would do, because, surely, the Jews and Poles had to have left some valuables behind. 

Fear bubbled up from Evgeni’s stomach into his throat, and he tightened his hands - his thin wool gloves offered no significant protection from the harsh, bitter winds - around his rifle. He found it kind of funny, in a strange way, that holding an instrument of death in his hands calmed him down, soothed his frayed nerves.

The landscape around them changed the closer they got to Warsaw. Thin, spindly trees reached out spider-like branches to them, snagged in their hair and their coats. The snow was so cold and wet, soaking through the soles of their boots. Evgeni’s soggy wool socks squished between his toes.

Winter winds stung his cheeks and he pulled his scratchy wool scarf up over his face, until only his eyes could be seen. Evgeni cradled his rifle in the crook of his elbow protectively.

He could make out the outline of Warsaw’s smoking hulk against the dark navy sky but he couldn’t see any lights in any windows.

They marched on.

-

They set up camp outside the city. The next morning, they would reach Warsaw.

Alex had built a fire out of sticks and some leaves, and he warmed rations for their supper. “ _We’re so close_ ,” Alex said, snapping Evgeni out of his thoughts.

Evgeni sat up on his pallet and rubbed grainy sleep out of his eyes. It had been the first time in weeks that he’d stolen more than a couple hours of sleep. “ _Close?_ ”

“ _To Warsaw_ ,” Alex said, holding a pot over the fire.

Evgeni had more immediate things on his mind. “ _What are you cooking?_ ”

“ _Stew_ ,” Alex said, stirring at the contents within. “ _Carrots. A bit of onion. A couple potatoes._ ”

He sighed and settled back on his pallet. “ _Again?_ ”

“ _Better than nothing_ ,” Alex replied, turning his nose up.

“ _Where will we go after Warsaw?_ ” Evgeni asked, crossing his hands over his chest. He stared up at the place where the tent met at the center, in a point. He wished he could see the stars, as cold as it was outside.

“ _What do you mean, Evgeni Vladimirovich?_ ”

“ _I mean, when the war is over_.”

“ _I haven’t thought about it_ ,” Alex replied. “ _I think I’ll always be fighting this war. Fighting the Germans._ ”

“ _I just want to go back home to Magnitogorsk_ ,” Evgeni said, quietly. “ _To Oksana_.”

“ _You’ll never get that life back,_ ” Alex said, his voice turned as cold and sharp as the air around them. “ _Oksana will be different._ You _will be different._ ”

Evgeni turned on his side and looked at him, at the shadows haunting the corners of his mouth, the lines around his eyes. “ _Why do you say that, Alexander Mikhailovich?_ ”

“ _It’s true_ ,” Alex said, with a shallow twist of his lips into a humorless smile. “ _We’ve all lost so much, given up so much. Why not our lives too?_ ”

Evgeni sighed. Alex had occasional flashes of darkness amidst the almost manic, hyper energy that usually filled and emanated from him. “ _Don’t say that, Alexander Mikhailovich._ ”

“ _Do you actually think Oksana will be there waiting when - if you_ ever _return to Magnitogorsk?_ ” Alex pulled the pot of stew off the fire and began ladling it out into their battered tin cups.

“ _Of course,_ ” Evgeni said. “ _We will be married when the war is over._ ”

“ _The war is never going to be over_ ,” Alex said, dark eyebrows shooting up in a look Evgeni couldn’t decipher. He held his cup to his lips and sipped at the thin, watery broth.

“ _What do you mean by that_ ,” he asked.

Alex raised his head and lanced him with a sharp look. “ _You’re so naïve, Evgeni Vladimirovich. You’ve got your head in the clouds. Look around you._ ” He swept an arm at the scene before them; Evgeni could see flickering lights in the distance, through the crack in the tent’s seams.

“ _So?_ ”

“ _So_ ,” Alex continued, “this _is your life._ ”

“ _You don’t think we’ll be victorious?_ ” Evgeni asked.

“ _Even if we do defeat the Germans, we still lose_ ,” Alex said, back to being cryptic.

“ _I wish you’d stop speaking in riddles. It’s tiring trying to keep up with you_.” Evgeni sipped at the contents of his cup.

Alex fell silent, save the occasional sip of his broth.

Neither of them spoke another word again that night.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
